There Was a Time
by LovinFace
Summary: Oneshot. Post Sweet Revenge. Hutch apologizes.


Disclaimer: As always, I don't own 'em, I just wish I did.

There Was a Time  
By LovinFace

Ken "Hutch" Hutchinson entered the hospital room where his partner, David Starsky, was sleeping. He quietly placed the old army duffle bag he carried onto the nightstand. Starsky's breathing alternated between shallow breaths and deep even breaths, something Hutch was still trying to get used to. It had only been a couple of weeks since the shooting, and Starsky was only able to stay awake a few minutes at a time, but Hutch cherished those moments.

Pulling up a chair to begin his nightly ritual, Hutch sat down and watched as his partner slept. There were so many things he wanted to say to Starsky. Things he had been meaning to say for a while now, but it just never seemed to be the right time. Hutch picked up his partner's warm hand and cradled it in his own, surprised to feel Starsky lightly press against his hand. Starsky slowly began to stir, and Hutch watched as the dark lashes quivered before opening to reveal slits of sea blue.

"Hey Buddy, how are you doing today?"

"Terrific," whispered Starsky, with a ghost of a smile.

Hutch returned the smile, and then looked to the ceiling before facing Starsky again.

"Hutch…what is it? You …okay?" Starsky asked quietly, recognizing that Hutch definitely had something weighing on his mind.

Hutch sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just….Starsk, there are some things I've been wanting to tell you and well, I figure now is as good a time as any. You don't have to say anything, just listen, okay?"

Starsky nodded slightly, watching as Hutch stood from the chair and began pacing beside his bed.

Hutch took a deep breath and continued. "You know, there was a time when I could read you like a book. I could tell what you were thinking by the way you were standing, the set of your jaw, or the look in your eye. But in the last few months, all that began to change. Looking back, I guess things started to change after you took down Harry Salidas. You took down a serial killer, not for the glory, but to save my life as well as Laura and Hannah's. And I know you didn't like all the publicity garnered by the case. When you were interviewed a few days later and had your picture taken in what I referred to as the 'Starsky uniform' – all I could do was rib you about it. Even though in the interview you talked about how _I _had been the one to take all the chances, how _I_ had created an opportunity for you to be able to take Harry out. Instead of thanking you, instead of saying I was proud of you, I pointed out that you look like a skid row reject."

"Hutch, you don't have…" Starsky whispered, but Hutch interrupted him.

"Let me finish, Starsk. This is important. The next Monday you showed up in new clothes and shoes. There was a time when that would have been a red flag, but lately I've been so into myself that I hardly noticed. You haven't worn the 'Starsky uniform' since. And things just haven't been the same. Oh sure, we still cut up, but not as often and well, you're just quieter, more introspective. These last few months, I've done nothing but shut you out. After Lionel was killed and I decided to quit the force, I didn't even consult you about it. I just went to the beach and stood there, ready to throw my badge into the ocean. And then you show up, and you do the same. Watching my back no matter what, right Partner?"

Starsky sighed. He considered these incidents to be over and done with, water under the bridge so to speak. "Hutch, you don't have to…"

"Starsky, please. Let me finish. Then there's Kira. I know, you said we'd never speak of it again but Buddy, I am so sorry." Hutch stared at his feet, the image of Starsky's face upon realizing the betrayal forever burned into his mind.

"Hutch, please. None of that…" Starsky started, but again Hutch cut him off. The blond sat in the chair and placed his hand on Starsky's shoulder.

"Please Starsk. I'm almost done. After the….after this happened, I spent the first few days convinced you were going to die. Then Huggy pointed out to me that you were the most stubborn man he knew and that I better not give up on you. After all, they said you wouldn't make it to the hospital, and you did. They said you wouldn't make it through surgery and you did. Then they said you wouldn't make it through the night. You did. Then you ….you died….and you came back. Now we've just got to get you home, Buddy."

Hutch rose from the chair and retrieved the duffle bag, carefully placing it beside Starsky on the bed.

"So here. I went to your place and found you some things to wear. I want you to look at this bag and know that one day soon you'll be getting out of this hospital and back home, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way. And Starsk, I know you don't like soapy scenes, but I've got to tell you this. You're not only my best friend, but a part of my very being." Hutch took a deep breath, relieved that he had finally told Starsky all the things he had been thinking for the past few weeks. He knew that Starsky had already forgiven him for the things he had done even though he had never really apologized, something he should have done long ago.

Starsky felt a tear threatening to erupt, but was able to repress it. He silently looked from his partner to the bag, and reached for the zipper with shaky hands and tried to pull it, but was unable to open the bag more than a couple of inches.

Then Hutch's hand was on his.

"Here Buddy, let me help you with that. You want me to show you what's inside?" he asked, smiling.

Starsky nodded slightly, lacking the energy to speak.

Hutch reached into the duffle. "Well, first off, I got your watch. It's tradition, you know?"

Starsky smiled, remembering how three years ago after Vic Bellamy had poisoned him that a watch was the _only _thing Hutch had brought from his apartment.

Hutch reached back into the bag and started pulling out items, one by one. "And here's some underwear. Don't worry, they're clean," he laughed. "And some socks. A t-shirt…blue, to match your eyes." Hutch batted his eyes dramatically for emphasis.

Starsky laughed weakly, enjoying the theatrical way Hutch was unpacking his duffle bag.

"Oh, and one mustn't forget the jeans." Hutch pulled out a pair of Starsky's old jeans, a pair he had worn for years until recently.

Starsky's eyes widened. "You hate those jeans," he whispered.

"But you don't. Now be quiet. I'm not done yet." Hutch reached into the bottom of the duffle and made a great show out of digging around in the bag. He pulled out the blue and white Adidas tennis shoes that Starsky loved.

This time, Starsky let a tear slide down his cheek, not because of the shoes, but because of what they represented to him. A reminder of his partnership with Hutch on the streets, a time when they were two parts of a whole, Zebra 3, his Torino, Hutch's car – God, he just wanted it all back.

Hutch reached over to him, and used his own shirtsleeve to wipe the tear from Starsky's face. "Oh, Buddy, I didn't mean to upset you. And it doesn't matter if you wear new jeans or faded jeans, Adidas or Nikes. I just wanted to show you that you don't need to change who you are. _I'm_ the one that needed to change. I don't know what was wrong with me. I guess I was feeling sorry for myself or something. I let everything we see on the streets get to me. I took everything out on you and took our friendship for granted. But Starsk, you being here, you surviving….that was my wake-up call to what's important. You. Us. Our friendship."

Starsky closed his eyes and whispered something. Hutch couldn't understand him, though, and leaned in closer to his partner, knowing that Starsky had to be exhausted and would be falling asleep any second.

"Say it again, Starsk."

Starsky slowly opened his eyes and looked at his partner. "Got any… burritos… in there?" He smiled weakly, and then he was asleep.

Hutch felt a tear escape from his own eye. Looking down at his sleeping partner, he whispered, "I love you too, Buddy."

The End


End file.
